Chapter 9 - THE CONTROLLED MESS
During the meal, I engineered a series of deliberate, controlled accidents. I casually passed a bowl of gravy, letting a few drops splatter onto the pristine white tablecloth. I poured red wine and let a small splash hit the wooden table surface. My mother-in-law gasped, pointing it out with a horrified expression, as if I had committed a sacrilege against housekeeping. I looked at her with wide, innocent eyes and repeated her exact words back to her: “Oh well, this house has a woman to clean it, doesn’t it?”
